Going Out of My Head
by flashpenguin
Summary: For 7 years, Hotch has secretly pined for JJ. Now his feelings are coming to the surface and won't go away. Will he finally get the nerve to tell her what's in his heart or will he continue to suffer in silence? First in the "You Come To My Senses" series.


_The other night I arrived to work early and decided to spend a few minutes listening to the radio. This song came on. I have always loved this version and had entertained using it before. But that night, I saw Hotch being all twisted up in the game trying to figure out how to approach the woman who had been haunting him for years. Although a go getter when it comes to the bad guy, he strikes me as chicken when it comes to the opposite sex._

_I don't own Criminal Minds. _

_Song prompt: __**"Going Out of My Head" **__by Little Anthony and The Imperials._

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**Going Out of My Head**

Aaron Hotchner could sum up his life in one sentence: He was going out of his head over Jennifer Jareau!

Every morning for seven years he had seen her walk past his office or sit across from him at the round table. And every morning he almost got up the nerve to ask her something that wasn't work related, but the feeling always left as quickly as it came.

But that didn't mean that his feelings weren't real. He just wasn't one to come out and state what was in his heart. Haley was proof that he was incapable of tapping into that side of his emotions. It was times like this that had him cursing the day he told his late, ex-wife to tell it like it was.

He sighed. Sniffed the perfumed air. Then sighed again.

He wanted to think that there was no way she could know what she was doing to him, but was that possible? Ever since her divorce from Will, he was sure that JJ was doing little things to draw his attention. Or maybe he really was that hard up.

It wouldn't be so bad if she just haunted and teased him during the day. At least at work he could bury himself in paperwork or a case. He could worry about something more important than the way her slacks hugged themselves to her taut thighs and firm buttocks.

But it was a completely different story when he got home and put Jack to bed. Lights out, TV off, maybe soft music in the background, he always found his thoughts drifting to her. He replayed every word she said, every smile - even the way she tossed her long blonde locks over her shoulder was enough to make him pray for amnesia.

And God help him if during the day they touched. He could still feel where her skin had branded him, and that led to long, sleepless nights of tossing and turning and cursing the day he had met her. But in the morning he was always back to where he started.

But he was going to change. He was a grown man, for Pete's sake; there was no reason to act shy around her. He would plan and wait for the moment he was alone with her, then he'd tell her what exactly was in his mind. Okay, maybe not _exactly_ what was in his mind - he wanted her to fall at his feet or in his arms, not run out of the room drawing up an order of protection.

He would tell her the truth about how she made him feel and the way he could still smell her perfume on his clothes at the end of the day. He would confess how her laugh always lightened what ever mood he was in and how her smile was better than sunshine during the rain… Okay, scratch that one. What the hell? He was a prosecutor, not Robert Browning. Poetry and sonnets had always been his downfall.

Damn!

_Think, Aaron. Think_, he ordered himself. He would talk to her and draw her in, then he would tell her. Yes, that seemed the best way.

Another good theory that fizzled before it ever saw the light of day when she was out sick for three days. It might as well have been a month with the way his heart missed her. It was hard to tell if her absence was harder on him or the team. Either way, a sigh of relief was breathed when she walked thru the doors of the BAU bullpen.

But he didn't have the nerve to talk to her. That moment had come and gone. And his nights were once again filled with berating himself over a glass of Scotch and a stack of paperwork. Or if it was Thursday, drawing up game plays for Jack's soccer game on Saturday.

What was the statute of limitations for hoping and wishing and praying? Maybe he could call Dave and get the answer. Or maybe he could phone Emily and get her opinion. But as his hand reached for the phone and started to dial, he flipped it closed. This was his problem.

Unless he went crazy first. Or his hand wore out. Either way, it might end his suffering.

Except for last night. That had been the icing on the cake. How could he have been so stupid? Where had his head been… Okay, he knew where his head had been, but that didn't excuse him. He could handle everything…except butt dialing the woman of his dreams.

He thought he was hearing things when her voice sounded over the speaker. It took a couple of seconds to realize that she was on the other line. He had glanced twice at the screen to make sure that he wasn't seeing things, but it was her name lit up. Then he put the phone to his ear. He should have said something. He could have said "Hi!" or something just as innocuous, but he froze. Instead, he held his breath until she hung up.

He should have called her back...he could have made up an excuse. She _might_ have believed it. Then again, he didn't believe it, so that jettisoned that idea. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back on the couch and wondered where the care-free guy who had wooed girls with nothing more than a smile had gone. He wondered where the flirting college law student had disappeared to. Had Haley and crime sucked the charisma and life out of him?

Heaving a sigh, he had to face the reality that he was going out of his head over JJ, but that was about as far as it would ever go. And he couldn't even say that he had tried. He had lost. Again.

So he turned out the light and faced another night with his guilty conscience. He would rather be alone.

But there was something different when he went into work that morning. It wasn't much, just the door to his office slightly ajar. Hesitant with anticipation, he eased the door open and stepped inside. Nothing was out of order - nothing that he could see. Then his eyes caught something yellow on his desk. A rose.

A yellow rose so perfect that he was tempted to have it bronzed. He looked for a card or something to indicate who might have left it. Nothing.

Sitting down in the high backed chair, he twirled the rose between his fingers, then brought it to his nose. Sniffing delicately so as not to bruise the petals, he felt a smile tug at his lips. He couldn't be sure enough to bet that it was JJ who had left it, but his heart could wish. Right?

There was no denying that this upped the stakes. She had lobbed the ball directly into his court fully anticipating that he wouldn't return the serve.

Another sniff.

Yeah. He was game.


End file.
